


J. Kavinsky's Guide to Getting the Guy of Your Dreams

by justdk



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Crossover, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justdk/pseuds/justdk
Summary: Kavinsky accepts the job of dating the un-dateable Ronan Lynch. It does not go as planned.(This is a 10 Things I Hate About You crossover fic)





	J. Kavinsky's Guide to Getting the Guy of Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rovinsky Week 2018, Day 5: Crossover

Kavinsky knew the Lynch brothers were odd but this was taking it to a whole other level of weird.

“Run it by me again,” he told Lee. They were crowded together in an empty study carrel, him, Lee, and Lee’s friend Koh. There wasn’t enough room for Proko so he was busy keeping a lookout for the Aglionby librarian.

“This is so humiliating!” Lee moaned. Koh patted his shoulder. “Okay, so I tried to ask Matthew Lynch on a date and he said Declan wouldn’t let him date unless Ronan was also dating. And no one wants to date Ronan. I mean, I know you’re kinda new here but he has a reputation—”

“He’s scary!” Koh interrupted. “He’s got tattoos and he looks like he wants to murder you. I heard a rumor that he’s in a _gang_ and for the initiation he had to endure 100 cuts; you should see his arms, man, scarred as fuck.” Lee motioned for Koh to shut up but he kept on going. “I heard he castrated some dude for talking trash about his brother. He street races every night and drinks all the time. He’s basically the _worst_ but he can’t be expelled because Gansey has bribed the school into keeping him. Oh, and someone _murdered_ his dad. That’s a fact, you can look it up.”

Lee shot Koh a quelling look. “You’re not selling this idea, Koh,” he hissed.

Kavinsky continued carving _666_ onto the study carrel desk. “And you want me to date this asshole?” He laughed and twirled his knife over his fingers to his palm and back. “What’s in it for me?”

“Money?” Lee suggested. Kavinsky shook his head. 

“I’ll do all your assignments for the rest of the year,” Lee offered hopefully.

“Tempting,” Kavinsky said, “if I gave a rat’s ass about academics.”

Lee was looking more anxious by the moment and that was almost a reward in and of itself. Koh looked like all he wanted in the world was to go smoke the weed he had just scored from Kavinsky.

“Okay, I give up,” Lee said, “what would make this worthwhile for you?”

Kavinsky grinned and tapped the knife against his teeth. “A favor. It can be whatever I want and I can call it in whenever I want. Deal?”

“Lee, dude, _don’t_ ,” Koh cautioned. At least one of these fuckers had sense.

“Deal!” Lee held out his hand and Kavinsky just stared at it and licked the knife blade. Lee’s eyes bugged and he swallowed hard. “Yeah, so good. Umm, I’ll be in touch. Bye!” He grabbed Koh’s arm and hurried away, tripping over a step stool on his way through the stacks.

Proko slunk over, hands shoved in his pockets, a bemused look on his face. “That was interesting.”

Kavinsky grunted and put the knife away. He had accidentally cut his lip and it stung like a son of a bitch. “It was something.”

“So, what now?” Proko asked.

Kavinsky rubbed his thumb over his carving and thought about it. “Guess I need to go check this guy out, see if he’s as badass as they say.”

—–

Kavinsky had recently returned to Henrietta after spending a year in hiding from a megalomaniac named Colin Greenmantle. The last time he had lived here it had only been for a few months, long enough to build a rep and get noticed. Then he had had to fake his death and go on the run, crashing in off the grid hotels and apartments until, miracle of miracles, someone finally offed Greenmantle, his wife, and a host of other murderous psychopaths that had been too interested in dreamers.

It had been a tedious year. Even with Proko to keep him company. They had lived off of Spaghetti-Os and Pop-Tarts, pizza and cigarettes and alcohol. Sure he could dream the world but someone was tracking those dreams so he had to limit his output. It had sucked.

But now he was back and eager to resume a carefree life lording over Henrietta. His old crew, Swan, Skov, and Jiang, had welcomed him back though they had been understandably confused by the fact that he and Proko were supposed to be dead. ‘Resurrection is a bitch,’ Kavinsky had said and they nodded like _yeah man totally_. Rebuilding his small town drug lord and maker of mayhem rep was the first item on his agenda. He didn’t need the fake dating job from Lee – that wasn’t even a service he fucking offered – but the target sounded intriguing. He vaguely remembered the Lynch brothers. When he had first transferred to Aglionby the brothers had lived off campus with their parents, commuting to school together in a fancy BMW. He remembered that they were good looking and knew how to handle themselves but that was about it. It seemed that, with the death of their father, they had been radically altered.

—–

Kavinsky decided the best way to approach the job of getting Ronan Lynch to date him was to do some surveillance first. It was a Tuesday night and the streets of Henrietta were dead. He drove around for a while; blasting his music and looking for the fabled shark-like BMW that Ronan drove. He scared up a few races with some locals, winning each one and then tearing off into the night. He was making his final lap of the town when a black BMW pulled up next to him at the stoplight. Electronic music warred with his Bulgarian rap. He rolled down his window to check out the guy in driver’s seat.

Ronan Lynch looked every bit as troublesome as Koh had described except Koh had forgot to mention that Ronan was dangerously attractive: shaved head, a sharp profile, toned arms showing an alarming amount of scar tissue. Black tattoo ink snaked over his shoulders and up his neck, hinting at a larger piece hiding beneath the black tank he wore. His left hand gripped the steering wheel hard enough that the tendons stood out.

“Hey,” Kavinsky called out, loud enough for Ronan to hear him. Ronan turned towards him, his face illuminated by the red stoplight, lending him a forbidding aura.

“What.” Ronan didn’t shout but Kavinsky heard him just fine. Ronan sounded _done_ and _pissed_.

“Your car’s hot,” Kavinsky replied, grinning.

Ronan didn’t say anything back. He looked incredibly bored which was just insulting. Kavinsky was used to giving a look and having guys ready to get on their knees for him.

Kavinsky tried again. “You’re pretty… hot.” Ronan rolled his eyes and turned away, fingers drumming on the steering wheel like the light couldn’t change fast enough. “Hey, man, I said—”

Ronan stuck his middle finger up and shoved his arm out the window, giving Kavinsky the message loud and clear. Kavinsky was so surprised that when the light changed to green he didn’t immediately notice. Ronan’s car surged forward, engine growling loud as he accelerated fast down Main Street, taillights bleeding away into the dark. There was no chance of catching him now. Kavinsky slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He hadn’t expected his first pass at Ronan to fail so spectacularly. And he didn’t even get to race him.

—–

“How’d it go?” Proko asked when Kavinsky finally returned to their room.

“Bad,” Kavinsky admitted. He dropped onto the bed, spooning up behind Proko. Proko relaxed against him, letting himself be cuddled. During their year in exile they had exhausted their desire for each other and mellowed into something that was softer, more comfortable. Kavinsky latched onto that bond now, feeling his irritation seep away as his stroked Proko’s bare skin. “He acted like I was nothing, man.”

“Hmm. You’re not used to that response,” Proko agreed. “What’ll you try next?”

“I dunno.” Kavinsky rubbed his face against Proko’s shoulder. “Maybe follow him around, see what he’s into.” He rolled onto his back and sighed. “This is a lot of work.”

Proko curled up at his side, pale eyes dopey from whatever pills he had taken. “You could tell Lee to fuck off.”

“Yeah.” But he really couldn’t. One brief encounter at a stoplight and Ronan Lynch had gotten under his skin. There was something about him, may be his attitude or his stupid fucking face or the way he drove like he wanted to disappear, Kavinsky couldn’t shake him.

“Get some sleep, K,” Proko murmured. “I bet the answer’ll come to you.”

“Yeah.” Kavinsky kicked off his shoes, peeled off his clothes, and pulled the sheet up over him and Proko. He was so tired he didn’t even need a pill to pull him under. Minutes after closing his eyes he was out; the doors of his dream world opened up to receive him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @dkafterdark


End file.
